Angel's Thanatos: The UnTrilogy
by Ella Roberta Reamy
Summary: Even legends need a little help through life.  Follow the lives of the Blues Brothers family and their guardians.  Jake's death, Curtis's death, Buster's origins, and more. [Language][OCs][Muliple Canons]
1. Part 1:1

ANGEL'S THANATOS: The Un-Trilogy

By Amy Smith (aka Ella Roberta Reamy) (aka takkunelwood)

© 2000, 2002-2004, 2007

Contains altered portions of the fanfic, "The Angel Trilogy: Part 1: JAKE", originally posted on FFN in 2002-2004 on this author account.

* * *

PART ONE 

MARCH 3, 1982

Jake clamped a hand over his aching head and staggered half-blind down the sidewalk, drunk and on the verge of passing out. He stumbled around the corner of an antique store and into the nearby alley, not caring where he collapsed. Jake gazed up at the midnight sky hazily through his shades, then everything went dark.

A nearby doorway opened, spilling warm scents and busy kitchen noises into the night as a waitress stepped out into the early morning chill. She pulled her coat around her tight, walking swiftly toward the street, where her battered van was parked. When she neared the dumpster, she noticed a pair of feet sticking out from a pile of garbage bags and old newspapers. She approached the figure carefully, preparing to run if necessary, and bent down to examine the person closer.

She heaved a frustrated sigh, dropping her head back in agitation. "Crap, not again," she muttered.


	2. Part 1:2

MARCH 4, 1982

Jake awoke in a darkened room with bare white walls and a hardwood floor that badly needed waxing. His bed was a spare mattress thrown on the floor, an autumn-colored afghan and paisley pillow. A tiny square window poured harsh winter sunlight directly into his eyes. Jake groaned and raised a hand to his pounding head, sitting up dizzily.

"Oh, good, you're up," the young woman greeted. She crouched near him on the floor, holding a steaming mug out to him. "Coffee?" She was wearing a pair of white and blue striped men's pajamas that were a few sizes too big.

"Where the fuck am I?" Jake asked groggily.

"My apartment."

"Thanks, but I figured that out on my own," Jake retorted, taking the mug from her. "I mean what part of town?"

"You're a grateful one," she replied. "South side, same as last night."

"How did I get here?" Jake asked, sipping, cursing his heavy limbs.

"I found you behind the restaurant where I work. I had one of the busboys help drag you to my van," she explained.

"I could be a rapist for all you know," Jake muttered.

"I had a good vibe about you," she said.

Jake snorted in contempt. "Shows how much you know."

"You'd be surprised what I know, Jake."

"How the hell do you know my name?"

"It's on your hand, genius." She got to her feet. "You want some breakfast? Actually, it would be lunch."

Jake nodded and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Noon-ish."

Jake let the girl help him up off the floor and followed her into the kitchen, draining the coffee from the mug as he walked. Passing through the living room, he noticed a rumpled bedspread and pillows on the worn sofa. "Do you always sleep on the couch?"

"No."

"I didn't mean to steal your bed."

"You were too zonked to do any stealing," she said, bending over the fridge. "I can give up my bed if I want."

Jake sat at the table, resting his head in his hands as She began puttering around the kitchen. His stomach still felt strange, but eating usually made him feel better when he had a hangover. The kitchen was soon filled with the scent of scrambled eggs and fried sausage. Jake realized that he hadn't had anything but liquor in his stomach for a few days now.

It was surprisingly sunny in the kitchen, even though the room was lit by a bare bulb and an even tinier window that faced a brick wall. When the food was done, she laid two mismatched plastic plates and dented silverware on the table, then divvied out eggs from a big bowl.

"Shit, did you cook the whole carton?" he asked.

"Yes. I wanted to make sure we had plenty." She set down the plate of sausage links and went back to the fridge.

"What do you want to drink?" She asked, peering inside. "There's milk, juice, and. . .that's it. Or do you want more coffee?"

"Coffee," he answered. She poured herself a glass of juice and refilled his mug, then finally sat down and began to eat. He wasn't used to having breakfast with a girl that he hadn't had sex with first.

"So, you got a name?" Jake asked between bites.

"Lola."

Jake snickered. "Do you work at the Copa Cabana?"

"Funny," she yawned, twirling her eggs around on her plate.

"When do you plan on throwing me out?" Jake asked.

"Never," Lola replied nonchalantly.

"No, seriously," Jake prompted.

"Seriously. I finally have someone to eat with," Lola replied.

"Whatever," Jake replied.

"Today's my day off. I figure I'd watch a little TV, then go out."

"Sounds good. Got a hot date later?" Jake asked.

"Not unless you're taking me somewhere," Lola replied.

"Sorry, no cash."

"I know."

"You seem to know an awful lot."

"I pay attention."

Jake arched his eyebrow. What a weird chick, he thought.

They at the rest of the meal in silence. When they were done, Lola began to clean off the table. "You can use the shower if you like."

"No thanks," Jake said. He didn't feel like it.

"Okay, let me put it another way. You smell like sweat and old booze and the garbage I found you lying on top of," she said. "I would be much obliged if you would bathe, please."

Jake furrowed his brow, irritated at her. "What are you, my mother?"

"There's some clean towels in the cabinet above the toilet," she added, ignoring his sarcasm.

"Yes ma'am," he replied mockingly. He reluctantly retreated into the bathroom, which was as blank and featureless as the rest of the apartment. The only things that showed signs that the space was used were a toothbrush on the sink, a bottle of shampoo and a soap-on-a-rope in the shower. Jake took off his clothes and turned on the water as hot as he could stand it. He always forgot how great a good shower could really be, even though he still didn't really care for it in general. Showering "en masse" with thirty-odd naked criminals was enough to give anybody the creeps for the rest of his life. He frowned when he noticed Lola's shampoo was of the flowery, girly variety, whose bottle boasted, "For added moisture and extra body!" Lacking any other option, he lathered his hair generously with it and was pleasantly surprised at how nice his hair felt. He thought it might have been the cleanest it had been in years. Maybe these chicks are on to something, he thought, squeezing a second helping into his hand.

When he was finished, he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Jake bent down to retrieve his clothes off the floor, only to find that they had disappeared. "How the hell?" he muttered. Lola must have slipped in while he had his head under the water. He pulled one of the blue beach towels out of the cabinet, rubbed his hair vigorously first before tying it around his waist. He double checked to make sure it wouldn't slip before stepping out of the bathroom.

"Lola?" he called out, trudging into the living room. No answer. The bedspread was folded and resting on the floor with the two pillows on top, leaving the couch free to sit on. Jake turned on the small television, adjusting the knobs and settling on the Bulls game for lack of anything better to watch.

Lola returned half an hour later, a box of laundry soap in one hand and a newspaper in the other.

"Is stealing clothes a fetish of yours?" he asked.

"I went to the basement to put them in the wash," she said. "I assume you don't do dry cleaning?"

"Nope."

"Then you find yourself fortunate," she said. She eyed him, damp and half naked, but didn't seem terribly fazed. She waved the paper at her. "I found an old movie I've been wanting to see. It starts in two hours. You can join me if you like. My treat."

Jake shrugged. "Sure, why not. Is it a pro-nudist establishment?"

"Your clothes will be done by then," she reassured him.

"Sounds peachy."

* * *

"So how'd you like it?" Lola asked, shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat as they waited for the van to warm up. They had gone to see To Kill a Mockingbird.

"Not horrible," Jake replied. He wasn't big on movies anyway, and he liked ones with guns and explosions better. He pushed the pocket flaps of his suit jacket inside the pockets, trying to keep his hands busy to stay warm.

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. . .and the extra butter on the popcorn." She reached over and brushed a few stray particles of popcorn off Jake's shirtfront.

"Hey, I was saving that for later," Jake joked, his teeth chattering.

"Don't you have a winter coat?" Lola inquired.

"I'll live."

"You wanna go grab a pizza?" Lola asked. "I haven't had pizza in ages," Lola said.

"Me either," Jake said.

* * *

"You got any idea where you're going to go?" Lola wiped the pizza grease off her hands and sipped from her soda.

"I thought you weren't going to throw me out," Jake replied.

"You're not really a sticking-around kind of guy."

"How do you know? Oh wait, I remember, you pay attention, right?" Jake shrugged. "I got a brother, but he's in Joliet. I can't find any of my band mates since they got out. I think they might be avoiding me. I got a few places I might try, though," he said. It was actually a lie. Jake had no idea what he was going to do, but he didn't want Lola to bother herself about it.

* * *

MARCH 5, 1982 – EARLY A.M.

Jake stirred awake, groggily trying to remember where he was. He heard voices and the shuffling of feet from the living room.

"Come in," he heard Lola say softly.

"Thanks," replied the other person, male. Jake raised his eyebrow, curious. He lay still, straining his ears to hear.

"I've missed you. How's Pierce?" Lola asked mischievously.

"Oh, same old same old. Cute, cuddly, and well hung," the man replied cheerfully. Jake snorted. Fruitcake he thought.

"Oh my god," Lola exclaimed. "That is a damn Rolex! Where the hell did you get that?"

"Belonged to some dead guy," he replied.

"Yuri!"

"What? Like he was using it anymore."

"Shhh! Talk low, he's asleep."

"He who?"

"Who do you think?"

"Are you serious? Girl, you know Raúl is going to kill you if he finds out!"

_Raúl?_ Jake thought.

"If he finds out," Lola said.

"Raúl always finds out. You know that."

"Yes, I know that. It'll just be a few days, and maybe by then I'll help him find someplace to stay."

"Do you think he knows?"

"No, he doesn't suspect a thing."

"Well, all I can say is good luck. I'd help you, but…" Yuri trailed off.

"Don't worry about it," Lola reassured him. "I'll be fine."

"Well, I've gotta go," Yuri said. "I just came by to check on you. See how this world was treating you. You sure you'll be okay?"

Jake heard Lola yawn. "I'll be fine," she said. "Don't worry about me."

Jake tried to go back to sleep, but found it to be impossible. Is this Raúl guy violent? Jake hoped not. Lola was nice and didn't deserve to get beat up or even yelled at, especially over him. He didn't need to stay there.

He waited in bed until he was sure Lola was asleep. Judging from the wispy snoring floating down the hallway, she was. He got up, pulled his pants and jacket back on, and tiptoed down the hallway with his shoes in hand. He fumbled around in the glow of the night light in the kitchen, rummaging in kitchen drawer until he found a stub of pencil and an old grocery receipt. He quickly scrawled a note for her.

Lola – Can't stay. Didn't want to wake you. Bad at goodbyes. Thanks for all the good food. – Jake

Lola had left a small pile of change on the kitchen table. Jake scooped it up and put it in his pocket at quietly as he could. The door was right next to the couch, where Lola was curled up in the fluffy blanket. He unlocked the door slowly, taking his time so he wouldn't wake her. He eased out into the hallway and closed it gently behind him.


	3. Part 1:3

MARCH 5, 1982 – MID-DAY

Lola sighed, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. She cupped her face in the palm of her hand and stared out the window. She couldn't say she had been really surprised to find Jake gone that morning, but it made her sad all the same.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" said one of the waitresses in a southern drawl, sauntering up to the table. "You look like someone just killed your puppy-dog."

Lola gave a tired smile. "I'll be okay. Can I have another soda?"

"Sure thing," the waitress replied, taking her glass. "You want some pie or somethin'? On the house."

"Do you have pumpkin?" Lola replied.

"Sure do. Last slice, I believe." The waitress went away to retrieve the dessert. Lola slumped down in her seat, leaning her head against the overstuffed vinyl cushioning.

A tall, dark, Hispanic man who had been sitting two booths behind Lola got to his feet after the waitress passed. His long black overcoat swished as he made his way to Lola's table.

"You did right," he said reassuringly, his slight accent adding an exotic quality to his soft voice.

"Jesus!" Lola exclaimed, jumping in her seat. "How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up behind me. It's spooky."

"I'm sorry." He took the seat across from her. "Yuri didn't tell on you," he added.

"Well bully for him," Lola replied. "I knew you knew." She sighed. "So, you're not pissed?"

"No."

"Here you go, hon," the waitress said, setting the pie down in front of her. "Can I get you anything, sir?"

"Coffee, much cream," he replied. The waitress scuttled off again.

"Raúl, when are you going to get a new coat?" Lola said. She pointed at him with her fork. "The shoulder's torn. It's falling apart."

"I like it too much," he said.

Lola shook her head. "Same old Raúl." She forked a piece of pie and held it across the table. "Wanna bite?"

* * *

Jake counted out the change in his hand. Wow, I can buy a whole cup of coffee he thought bitterly, and half a phone call. The coins he had taken from Lola's had been made up of mostly pennies. He made his way over to the coffee machine filled the cup to where it nearly spilled over.

_Maybe I should've stayed with Lola after all. Could've had an entire breakfast if I wanted one._ He sighed as he made his way up to the counter. The man in front of him took his sack and left the store. Jake plunked down his pile of change on the counter.

"Oh good," the girl behind the counter said cheerfully as she began to count the coins, "I was almost out of pennies."

Just then the glass door swung open, the bell above the door ringing violently. Both Jake and the cashier looked up to see a guy in dingy clothes and a blue ski mask pointing a handgun at them.

"Get your hands up!" the guy demanded. The cashier gave a small scream and did as the thief had instructed.

"Oh Christ," Jake muttered, his eyebrow arched in surprise.

"I said hands up beatnik!" the guy yelled at Jake.

"Beatnik? Who the hell says 'beatnik' anymore?"

"Now, goddammit!" the thief barked. Jake raised his hands in the air, rolling his eyes behind his shades. The guy turned to the cashier and shoved a cloth bag at her with his free hand. "Gimme all the money. Now!"

The girl slowly reached down and opened the cash drawer with a small whimper. The guy shoved Jake aside and kept his gun ready. The girl quickly emptied the cash into the bag and timidly handed it to the thug. Jake watched silently, his arms still raised. Reminds me of the time me and Elwood tried this he thought. He took a closer look at what was visible of the thief's face. Something about the guy's demeanor told Jake that he was still just a kid. Probably not even pushing twenty.

The thief's eyes stayed on the girl, looking her up and down, calculating something. He spoke firmly, "You're coming with me."

The girl's eyes widened even more and she quickly paled, looking sick.

Jake spoke, "Now come on, you have the money, now scram."

The guy turned his gaze to Jake, his eyes growing colder. "Why? She your girlfriend or somethin'?"

"Look," Jake tried calmly, "You got the money you wanted. Just leave her alone, okay? You don't need her."

"You tryin' to tell me what to do?" the guy said gruffly. He stepped forward and pushed the gun barrel directly against Jake's chest.

Jake narrowed his eyes. "The only thing I want you to do is to leave her alone."

Jake was aware that it was suddenly very dark for no reason that made sense. It was only morning, it shouldn't be this dark so soon.

Something else is going on, Jake thought. What was it? I remember. . .coffee?

Jake felt like he was sitting in a warm bath in a room with the lights off. It hadn't been long since his last good bath, but he felt like he was in one now and was just about ready for a good nap.

But I was doing something before. It was morning. Damn, what was it?

He wished everything would stop and come into focus, but it kept getting darker, even though he couldn't see how darkness could get darker. He just needed to sleep some, then he could think straight again…


	4. Part 1:4

Jake jumped awake and sat bolt upright. "What the fuck?" he uttered, breathing heavily.

"Bad dream?"

Jake jumped again, turning to see who the voice belonged to. A slight-framed girl with short black hair, wearing a tight black sweater and pants sat at a cluttered desk, typing on an old-fashioned typewriter. She was concentrated on her work and didn't look at him.

"Uh, yeah. Bad dream." Jake reached underneath his shades and rubbed his eyes. He reached up to take his hat off, but discovered it was already off. Jake looked around, absently patting the cot he found himself sitting on. He raised the thin blue blanket, but saw only his own feet.

"Hey, have you seen my—"

"Hat?" the desk girl finished. She opened a desk drawer, pulled out Jake's hat and Frisbee-tossed it to him without looking up. Jake caught the fedora before it went sailing out of his reach. He ruffled his hair a bit, then plopped the hat back on his head.

"Where am I?" Jake asked the girl.

"Well, that depends on where you were before you were here," she replied, her eyes remaining on the clicking device before her.

Jake furrowed his brow. You're so fucking helpful, he thought."Well, I was at the gig at the—" Jake stopped. No, that wasn't right. He thought harder. "I was buying a coffee, and there was this redhead working the register. Kinda hot. Then this guy tried to rob the place. After that, I really couldn't tell you." He looked around again. "Is this the police station. Did you guys remodel?"

The girl finally stopped typing and picked up a pair of round black glasses off the desk and put them on. She then pulled a ledger book off a stack of papers and ran her finger down the page.

"Ah, right here. Gas station robbery, Chicago. Blues, Jake Elwood; formerly Jacob Papageorge. Age 33." She looked over the top of the ledger at him. "You're Jake?"

"Yeah, and you know all that about me _how_?"

"It's written here, that's how. They just give it to me. In regard to where you are, you're dead." She tossed the ledger back in its place and turned promptly back to her typewriter without further explanation.

Jake blinked hard twice. "Huh?"

"Dead. Deceased. Crossed over."

"Excuse me, I am _not_ dead, thank you. I sure as hell don't feel very dead. Where am I, really? Police station? Hey, question me all you want, I didn't do anything wrong this time. Just ask the—"

Jake was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Lola in the office doorway. "Jake, oh my god, are you okay?"

"Lola? Yeah, just this weird broad telling me I'm _dead._ Is that some new slang term or something?"

Lola sighed and rolled her eyes. "You'll have to excuse Dara, she has _zero tact._" She made her way over to Jake and helped him off the cot, shooting the typing girl a dirty look.

"Hey, you know you're supposed to pick them up within the time limit," Dara replied, stopping to load a new sheet of paper in the typewriter. "Besides, I was just hired to keep records, not to be a people person."

Lola made an exasperated noise. "That's for damn sure." She led Jake out into the hallway.

"What the hell was that all about?" Jake paused, thinking. "I'm _not_ dead?"

"Oh, you're quite dead, unfortunately." She sighed. "Come on, let's go to my office."

Once inside Lola's office, which Jake noticed was as sparsely decorated as her apartment had been, Jake planted himself on a small blue couch against the far wall.

"Ok, let's say I _am_ dead," Jake began as Lola shut the door behind them. "Why would I die and go to an office building?"

"Because things run more efficiently if we're set up as a business. We tried to do it as a—" Lola stopped, shaking her head. "It's a long story."

Jake was pissed. This had to be some sort of elaborate joke. "Well," he said, "since I'm so dead, I guess I have all the time in the world. Indulge me." He crossed his arms and leaned back, raising an eyebrow expectantly.

Lola hesitated. "Well, okay, let's see. I am. . .a guardian angel of sorts. _Your_ guardian angel, to be specific."

Jake stared at her in disbelief. "Do I look like Jimmy Stewart to you? Are you going to show me what a _wonderful life_ I have or something?"

"Yeah, 'cause I haven't heard that one before," Lola retorted.

"So, what, I'm not the first?" Jake asked bitterly.

"I have two, actually. I'm in charge of both you and Elwood." She laughed. "Fat lot of fun the pair of you were."

Jake sat forward, absently rubbing his chin with the back of his hand. "So, I'm dead. What, was my coffee poisoned?"

Lola tilted her head. "You don't remember?"

"Not really."

"Think harder."

Jake concentrated. "I remember some guy trying to rob the store and. . .oh no. . ." Jake tried to remember the last thing that happened. "The guy, he wanted the money," he thought aloud. "He was going to take her with him, and I told him no. I mean, no telling what he would've done to her. Me and Elwood knocked over that station once, but we would never stoop to kidnapping and. . .the son of a bitch shot me, didn't he?"

"Yeah. Truthfully, we didn't see this coming. You had a good fifteen years left, maybe twenty."

"Yeah, well. . .shit. I can't believe I'm really dead. Wait, only twenty years?" Jake asked perplexedly.

"Come on, Jake. You drink too much, you smoke too much. Your arteries are not a pretty picture. I'm sure the coroner's having a heyday--"

Jake held up his hand. "Goddamn, I'm still trying to take all this in! Don't start on the dead body stuff!"

Lola stifled an inappropriate giggle. "Sorry. Anyway, I think you had it good, overall."

Jake let out a long breath. "So, guardian angel, huh? When did this start?"

"When you were born. I was training with Raúl and—"

"He's one too?" Jake interrupted.

"How do you know about Raúl?"

"I heard you and your friend talking. I thought maybe he was your boyfriend and he'd be pissed off at you having me around."

"So that's why you left," Lola mused. "No, he's more like my boss or something, I guess. He taught me everything. He was your mom's guardian angel, and I got to observe him and help him out with her, and then you were born and I got to be yours," Lola explained.

"You're older than me? Weird. You look good, though."

"This is how I looked when I died," she said. "You can change yourself up a little, but you look like you did at some point in your life."

"Do all people become angels?" Jake asked.

"Not all. Some choose to be reborn. Some people stay as ghosts and never make it up here. Some people hang around to help. There are different jobs."

"What about me?"

"Well, that's up to you. You don't have to decide right away. If you chose to be a guardian, you get to train with us. There's Raúl, Yuri, Pierce, myself, and Dara helps." She snorted. "Some help. She has all the subtlety of a napalm explosion."

"Since you died trying to save that girl," she continued, "You're on the recommendation list for guardian duty."

"No shit?"

Lola picked up a sheet of paper off her desk, "Her name was Anna. That guy would have taken her and raped her. But you stood up for her, he shot you, and then got scared and ran off. She wouldn't have died that day, but her life would have been ruined. You stopped that."

There was a long silence as Jake pondered his options, taking it all in. "So, can I back out of this if I don't like the job?"

"You can change your mind any time" Lola replied.

Jake thought about this for a long while. Finally he said, "What the hell. I guess I could stand to stick around with you for a while."

Lola smiled, slipping her arm around Jake's shoulders. "Alright, if that's what you want to do. I say we go have a cup of coffee with the guys. Yuri is Raúl's new trainee, and we're like a mini-team of sorts together. I bet Pierce will be along too. He and Yuri are an item, very cute together."

Lola led Jake out of her office and down a long hallway, marked with identical doors with no labels. I'm gonna have a hell of a time figuring this shit out. "So what was Raúl supposed to be so pissed about?"

Lola bit her lip. "Well. We're not exactly supposed to keep you around like that. It's one of the many weird rules we have. Everything will be explained later. But right now, we dine. You can have anything at all you want to eat. We have it all."

"I guessed that," he said. "You know, it being the afterlife and all that."


	5. Part 1:5

JANUARY 24, 1949

Lola pressed her nose and the palms of her hands up against the window of the delivery room, like a kid outside a store's Christmas display. "She's going to die, isn't she?"

Raúl placed a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "I am afraid so." She tilted her head and touched her cheek to Raúl's hand. "The baby's okay?"

"Yes, he will be okay. And he will be yours."

Lola looked up at him in surprise. "Mine? You mean…"

"Yes, he will be yours to look after. You will be on your own now."

"Do you think I'm ready?" Lola asked uncertainly.

"I believe you are. The baby inside Artesia is not ready to be alone, but he will be for a long time. But neither you or he will really be alone, you will have each other. You will grow together, in a way."

Lola turned away from the turbulent scene in the room, just as another nurse ran past them and through the doorway into the room, not seeing the pair standing there. They had made themselves invisible to the rest of the world. "Will you still help me?"

Raúl reached over and gently caressed her cheek. "My darling Lola, I will always be here to help you. You will just be the responsible one now."

Just then, a wail pierced the din around them all. Lola and Raúl turned to see the baby's chubby body wriggling in the nurse's hands. Lola smiled. "He's here."

"Yes, and she is gone now," Raúl replied, sadness creeping across his face. Lola looked back through the window, and sure enough, Artesia lay still and one of the nurses was closing her eyes.

"You have to go now?" she asked.

"Yes," Raúl replied, "She will be waiting." He pointed through the window. "He is clean now, I think, in the little bed."

"Yeah, I should go in. You go, I'll be fine," Lola said.

Raúl gave her shoulder another comforting squeeze, and then walked off down the corridor.

Lola timidly approached the doorway, then strode into the room and over to the baby's wheeled bed.

"What's the name, Cissy? Did she say?" one of the nurses said behind her.

"She said to call him Jake," Cissy replied.

"Jake…that's short for Jacob…I'll put that down," the other nurse said.

Lola looked down at the tiny new person in the bed. He had stopped crying and was looking around the room curiously, most likely wondering what was going on.

"So, Jake," Lola murmured. "Thus the journey begins, I guess."

The baby's eyes shifted and Lola realized that he was looking straight at her. She was startled, then remembered what Raúl said about how very small children could sometimes see them, even when they were invisible to others.

Lola gave a small wave to the baby. "Hi there, Jake. You're mom's gonna be okay. Raúl's with her now. He's good." She tilted her head to one side, then reached down and stroked the baby's forehead. He gurgled pleasantly and kicked his feet, then promptly squenched his face up in a yawn.

Lola giggled. "Sleep now, little one. We'll take on the world tomorrow."

END PART ONE


	6. Part 2:1

_A/N: Using actor's birthdays instead of "Blues Brothers: Private" canon because I like it better. I am also using an altered version of canon, taking from "The Best of the Blues Brothers" that Elwood was out of prison for an unknown period of time before 1993 and was aware of Jake's death._

* * *

PART TWO

NOVEMBER 22, 1986

Jake became gradually aware of someone shaking his shoulder. He opened one eye and focused through the fog of sleep. Lola loomed over him.

"I don't want breakfast," he grumbled, pulling the pillow away and sticking it over his head.

"Jake, you need to get up." Lola said. "It's Elwood."

Jake resurfaced. "What about Elwood?"

"We need to go. Something bad's happened."

* * *

July 5, 1952 – EARLY A.M.

Lola stared back at the pouting toddler. "Don't give me that look."

Jake stuck his lip out even further. He lay on his stomach, perching his chin and hands on the short no-fall rail of the small bed, reminding Lola of a real-life Kilroy figure. "Mean Lola," he said grumpily.

"I am not mean," Lola protested. "It's just the way it worked out. I get the two of you, and we can all help take care of each other."

"No."

"He's a sweet little boy," Lola explained. "Besides, you'll need a friend in this place."

"You?"

"I know I'm your friend. I'll be both of your friends. It's not like I'm really going anywhere. It's complicated."

"Complah?" Jake asked, tilting his head.

"Never mind." Lola glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Where is that penguin anyway? Baby's baths don't take this long."

"Ping-in," Jake mimicked.

"Shh! That's not a nice thing to say. I shouldn't have said it either."

"Ping-in!" Jake repeated, eyes glowing mischievously.

"Wonderful," Lola muttered. "If you're going to pick up bad habits from me, can you at least be a little softer about it? You're gonna wake somebody up."

Jake closed his mouth, puffing his cheeks with air and looking around the room at the rest of the sleeping boys. Lola giggled. "You're a silly goose," she said.

Finally the door opened, and Sister Mary walked in with the baby. She looked up and down the long room, searching for a free bed, but Lola already knew there wasn't one. "Jake, you don't see me, okay? See them."

Jake turned towards Sister Mary and the baby. It took her a moment before the sister looked his way. A knowing smile crept across her face. "All right, Mr. Papageorge," she whispered, crossing the room. "It looks as though you have a new friend." She leaned down and placed the baby on the bed with Jake, who moved over to make room for him. Lola smiled from her invisible perch on the nearby chair.

Lola kneeled by the bed and touched the baby's tiny fingers. The baby stared silently up at her, then at Jake, moving his eyes back and forth, taking them both in.

"Hello Elwood," she cooed. "This is Jake, and he's going to help me take care of you. Like a big brother. You want a big brother?"

Elwood made a small gurgling noise, then fell silent again. Jake looked at Elwood, confused. Jake knew that he and the rest of the boys here didn't have brothers or sisters or mommies and daddies. The only exceptions were the Moore twins, who were only brothers because they were born at the same time.

"You can inherit a brother too," Lola explained. "You want Elwood to be your little brother?"

Jake looked back at little Elwood. He reached out and touched Elwood's other hand. "He's little," Jake said.

"He'll get bigger. Then you two can really have some fun together."

* * *

1986 – CONTINUED

Jake stood in the doorway, invisible to the doctor and nurse standing over his brother, busying with the monitors. They murmured some medical jargon, wrote things on a chart, then left.

"What happened?" Jake asked, crossing the room, standing over his brother's bed.

"His appendix ruptured," Lola replied. "It nearly killed him."

Jake leaned over Elwood's bed. It was the first time he had seen Elwood since before he died. He was sallow and drawn, with tubes running out of his arms.

"I thought you were supposed to be there," Jake said, his temper flaring in place of tears and tenderness. "I'm supposed to learn something from you?"

Lola crossed her arms and glared at Jake. "Who the fuck do you think called the ambulance?" Her voice quavered. "You've been around us enough to know what we can and can't do for people."

Jake rubbed his chin, heaving a sigh. "Shit, I'm sorry. It's just. . ."

"I know," Lola said. She sighed and took a seat in one of the chairs next to the bed, entreating Jake to join her. He moved the chair up close to the bed, leaning on the guard bars and watching Elwood intently.

"Is he gonna be all right?" Jake asked quietly.

"Yeah. It took a lot for them to get all the poison out of him, but he'll be okay. It might take a while for him to recover though." She smiled, pointing to the bag of fluid hanging above the bed. "He's sure going to miss that morphine when they take him off of it."

"Jesus H. Christ," Jake muttered. He couldn't remember either Elwood ever doing anything harder than weed. He'd always heard bad things about morphine addiction, hoped it wouldn't happen to Elwood.

They sat in silence for a long time, broken by Lola's need to get up from time to time to wander around the outside corridor.

Jake sat bent over the bed, not moving or looking away from his brother. He liked the way that he could turn off his mortal instincts since he had died. He didn't have to feel stiff joints, get colds, smell foul stenches, and he could go however long he wanted without eating or drinking anything.

Jake had only heard occasional bits of information from Lola about Elwood's whereabouts. They had sent Jake out on observations a lot, mostly to keep him from dwelling on the fact that he'd have to leave Elwood behind. Jake swore up and down that he was fine, but when the first wave of "corpse's remorse" (as the others called it) had hit him, he realized that they had been right.

Elwood had been released from Joliet in the summer of 1984, a little more than two years after Jake's death. Lola reported that Elwood had been sad over the news, and had worked mostly odd jobs here and there, afraid of getting the band back together until only recently. Elwood and the band occasionally played a small venue on weekends, but mostly got together and jammed for fun.

Jake was learning the ropes of the guardian business. He picked up the ropes of the business pretty quick, but wanted all the experience he could get before gaining a charge of his own. Jake had never had responsibilities of this magnitude before, and he didn't want to screw things up on a cosmic level.

"Hey," Lola said, breaking Jake from his thoughts. "You staying overnight?"

"Yeah," Jake replied, yawning. How long had they been here?

"Well, I guess this is as good a time as any to get some watch time in," she said. "You'll call if either of you need anything?"

"No problem," Jake said.

"Okay," Lola said, but hesitated. "Don't appear, okay?"

Jake nodded. One of the first things that Lola had taught him was that when he came out of his invisible state, he wouldn't appear to the world as he had in life. This wouldn't change until most of the people who could recognize him were dead or had forgotten about him. Lola could appear as herself because of this, and the few people left alive from her life lived all the way in Vermont.

"I know how tempting it can be," she said. "But he won't recognize you." Jake's altered personality was tall, skinny, blonde, and wore a tweed suit and glasses. He'd nicknamed himself Professor Egghead.

Jake bit back a retort. Lola had a tendency to act like a bossy big sister. That was basically her job, after all. "I promise," he said.

Lola squeezed Jake's shoulder and smiled. She left a light shimmer in the air as she disappeared, back to her office, leaving the brothers alone in the dark hospital room.


	7. Part 2:2

JULY 4, 1952 – LATE AFTERNOON

Lola sat on a tall stool with her feet propped up on the counter, painting her toenails with pearlescent pink polish. Her hair was up in a pink kerchief and she sucked on a small red lollipop.

"Lola, get down!" Mrs. Ottmar called out in her thick accent. "Customers no want smell your feet!"

"What customers?" Lola said around her candy. "Everybody's off doing stuff today." She put the finishing touches on her pinkie toe and capped the bottle again.

Mrs. Ottmar wrinkled her nose. "That junk smell worse than your feet. Open window."

"The window is open," Lola said, gesturing toward the drive-up side. "And my feet don't stink."

"Well turn fan on, blow smell out," Mrs. Ottmar replied, shuffling through a box of receipts under the counter. Mrs. Ottmar and her spinster daughter, Reyhan, were from Turkey and owned the laundry service where Lola currently held one of her many "Earth jobs". They were necessary to pay for things like apartments and food when the angels had to come down and stay with other mortals for a while.

Lola pulled the heavy desk fan down from the shelf and propped it in the open window. She gazed up at the sky outside, beginning to darken with rain clouds and whipping a cooling wind through the thick city heat. She closed her eyes and let the breeze hit her face for a few moments before turning the fan on.

"Did man ever come back for hat?" Mrs. Ottmar asked.

"Nope," Lola replied, pulling the dark grey fedora out from its hiding place. A man had come in two weeks ago, laid his hat on the counter while he paid and walked off without it.

"Put in charity bin," Mrs. Ottmar said. "His own fault for losing it."

"Maybe I could keep it," Lola said. She eased the hat on her head, covering her kerchief and struck a pose. It was a size too big.

Mrs. Ottmar looked up briefly. "It no suit you."

Lola feigned disappointment, tossing the hat into the cardboard box they had full of abandoned and mixed up items. "It's full. You want me to take it to the drop-off center when I leave in five minutes?"

"Who say you leave in five minutes?" Mrs. Ottmar demanded. "We close at nine. Four more hours."

Lola made a face. "We haven't had anybody in all day," she complained. She un-tucked her white button-down shirt from her cuffed dungarees and knotted it above her waist. "We're gonna have a rush of ketchup and grass stains tomorrow," she said. "We should all go home and rest up and light some sparklers."

"Says you," Mrs. Ottmar replied.

"You're not even working back there. You already finished doing yours and Reyhan's stuff and my stuff and now you're reading a book," Lola protested.

Mrs. Ottmar waved her off impatiently. "Fine fine, you go home. I no pay you for rest of day, though."

Lola bent down to hug the woman around her shoulders. Mrs. Ottmar liked to act strict, but was really a sweet woman. "Mrs. O, I wouldn't expect anything less. You're a classy lady."

"Yes yes, classy lady," Mrs. Ottmar repeated, a small smile creeping into the corner of her mouth. "Now get off me."

Lola clocked out and grabbed the charity box and her small bag of laundry, putting it in the backseat of the Plymouth. She, Raúl, and the newest recruit, Yuri, had finally gotten tired of walking and taking the bus and had pooled their money to buy a car. Raúl and Yuri hadn't been doing "visibles" for almost a year, so she had won free reign of it for a while.

At her stomach's insistence, she stopped by the Olympia Restaurant for a BLT and fries to take back to her apartment. While she was waiting for her order on one of the swivel stools, she watched in amusement as the owner's wife chided her young son. The boy and an assortment of his many cousins were always running about on the sidewalk every time Lola came by.

"Cheeseburger, cheeseburger! All you eat is cheeseburger," the woman scolded. "Why you no eat something else? You get sick on cheeseburger!"

"Cheeseburgers are good, ma!" the boy protested in his matching Greek accent.

"I make you anything else you want," the mother pressed.

"Cheeseburger!" The boy crossed his arms and stared down his mother.

She threw up her arms in surrender. "This business go in the toilet when you take over," she muttered, shuffling back to the kitchen.

Lola giggled to herself. The little boy had dark curly hair like Jake's, reminding her that she should visit him later.

She was halfway home with the food when she heard a thin, desperate wail. It wasn't nearby, and she wasn't hearing it with her ears, but more in her head. She went into her trance-like mode, piloting the car in the direction that the feeling took her. She ended up all the way down by the docks at an abandoned warehouse. She parked the car and made her way across the weed-spotted yard. She was startled when she heard an actual, audible cry in addition to the one in her head, and realized that it had been purely telepathic to begin with.

Lola followed the sound to a group of empty oil drums pushed against to the far side of the building.

"Oh good god!" She leaned into the barrel and gingerly lifted out a baby boy, naked, dirty, and only a few days old. "You've got a strong mind," she said. The baby's voice silenced, and his eyes closed, exhausted.

She started to call for Raúl, but decided against it. He was already busy with Yuri, and she needed to handle this on her own. Lola knew that the best place for him was St. Helen's. She could keep an eye on him and Jake at the same time. But getting him there could prove problematic. If she dropped him off herself, they would ask questions and might run into some snags since, technically, she didn't exist. It was early enough in the day that someone was bound to notice a floating baby if she went invisible (she could make objects and food invisible with her, but not other people).

"I have an idea," she said to the little boy. "It's crazy, but you'll be fed soon. Hold on, little one."

She took the baby to the car and laid him gently in the seat after wrapping him up in a blue blanket from the charity box. She pulled her big sunglasses out of her purse and put on the lost fedora.

She remembered that Sister Mary had a good rapport with Officer Delaney, the beat cop on that side of town. Delaney had brought more than a few of the St. Helen's boys back from attempts at running away, and he often worked with Youth Division. Lola pulled up to the first newspaper stand she came across that was on Delaney's beat.

"What'll ya have?" the vendor asked.

She pulled the hat low over her eyes. "Gazette." She picked up the baby as the vendor turned around. "Here goes nothing," she whispered. "See you in a bit."

The man turned back to give her the paper and take her money. She thrust the kid into the man's arms and quickly floored it, speeding away from the curb and down the street. Lola could see the man's bewildered expression in the rearview mirror as he looked from the baby to her disappearing car.


	8. Part 2:3

NOVEMBER 23, 1986

"Jake."

Jake snapped awake with a small snort at the sound of his name, forgetting for a moment where he was until he looked down at Elwood in the hospital bed.

"Jake?" Elwood repeated weakly.

Jake's eyes lit up and he sat forward, leaning over the bed. He knew he couldn't appear, but it wouldn't hurt to try talking back. Maybe Elwood could sense him in his weakened state. "I'm right here, man," Jake replied. "It's me."

"Jake. . ."

Jake smiled hopefully. "What is it, Elwood? I'm right here listening."

"Jake, put crayons sutra jellyfish, okay?" Elwood mumbled. His rolled his head a little in Jake's direction, and continued sleeping. Jake's heart sank. It was just drug-induced nonsense. He didn't know what made him think Elwood could hear him, or that he would be any better this soon. He heaved a sigh and leaned his head on the railing.

Jake reached over and laid his hand on top of Elwood's. He was careful not to touch the place where the needle rig (Jake didn't know what it was called) was taped to Elwood's hand, even though he really couldn't hurt Elwood in his invisible state. Normally he wouldn't have show such outright affection for Elwood. Things change when you die, Jake thought. He silently wished that they hadn't had to, that he could have shown and told Elwood how much he loved him. He wondered if his brother knew.

Elwood's skin felt a little waxy and warm in a different way than normal, and Jake could feel his energy emanating from him like the static field on a television screen. It was weak yet steady, and Jake got the impression that it was a grayish-blue color, though he couldn't actually see it. This was a new skill he had picked up as a spirit, and he was surprised the first time it happened. Raúl had explained to him that many people gained new abilities when they died, not all of them the same, and that some mortal people even had this skill. Jake had a hard time imagining what his life would have been like if he'd had it then.

Jake drifted off to sleep again, ignoring the nurses wandering in and out to take vital signs and shuffle charts.

* * *

"GRRR!" Dara growled. "Why won't Mancini just get with the fucking times?"

Lola sipped her soda from the cot. "What's wrong?"

Dara held up a jumble of scrolls with both hands. "He keeps submitting his reports on this stupid parchment, and his handwriting is impossible to read!" Her face looked extra pale in the green glow of the computer screen.

"Well you have to think, he died during the Renaissance," Lola said.

"If he would just switch to a ledger and learn how to print like the rest of us," Dara grumbled. "I don't expect him to start submitting on floppy disk, but dammit, he's had long enough to learn something else. The last thing he's lacking is time!"

"Well, as long as you don't expect me to switch off the typewriter just yet," Lola said. "It's gonna be a while before I learn this computer business."

A red light began blinking on the electronic switchboard behind Dara's desk. "It's for you," Dara said, turning around.

"It's probably Jake," Lola said, jumping up. "Here, you can have the rest of this." She put her soda down on the desk and headed out the door.

Dara took a look at the half empty can. "You know I don't like sour stuff," she called after her.

* * *

"What, what is it?" Lola exclaimed, appearing in the middle of the hospital room.

"He said your name!" Jake said, eyes wide behind his shades. "Elwood said your name."

Lola let out a heavy breath. "Jesus, that's all? I thought we had a situation on our hands. Don't scare me like that."

Jake narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm sorry about that, but I guess you missed the point," he said angrily. "How the fuck does Elwood even know your name?"

Lola pulled her hair back into a ponytail, securing it with an extra elastic she had around her wrist. She seemed unfazed. "What did he say, exactly?"

"He said, 'Lola, watch this'," Jake said.

"Probably some kind of latent memory."

"What? What the hell memory? How can he remember someone he's never—" Jake raised an eyebrow at her. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

Lola furrowed her brow. "You don't remember? I would have thought you would have gotten some of those memories back by now."

"What are you talking about?" Jake repeated.

"You and Elwood used to be able to see me," she said. "When you were really little. Children can see us like we're normal people. Where do you think imaginary friends come from?"

"Gee, I would've gone for 'the imagination', I guess." Jake sighed, calming down somewhat. Two false starts in one day had freaked him out. "Shit, Lola, I'm sorry. I don't mean to keep. . ." he trailed off, turning away from Lola. He felt her move towards him, letting her wrap her arms around him from behind. They stood like that for a long time, looking down at Elwood's sleeping figure. They swayed slightly in a silent, step-less dance.

"I'm fucking rotten," he said after a while.

"Why?"

"I almost wished he had died from it," Jake said. "Just so we could be a team again." A few tears slid down Jake's cheek and landed on his shirt. "Some fucking great brother I am, huh?"

Lola turned him around to face her. "Jake, that's normal. You miss him."

Jake wiped at his face with the heel of his hand, sniffing and regaining some of his composure. "I guess." He gave a half-smile. "Damn, death is complicated," he said.

Lola hugged him again, resting her head on his chest and sighing. "Life and death, I can never decide which is more difficult."

"How did you. . .you know," Jake asked.

Lola felt the tears behind her own eyes, but blinked them back. "Cancer," she said, her voice straining. "It was 1918, and they didn't have all the treatments they do now."

"How old were you?"

"Twenty."

Jake chuckled, pulling back and looking down at her. "I knew you were really younger than me."

Lola laughed. "Shut up, old man." The emotions had passed. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

"I could eat," Jake admitted. He nodded at the bed. "You think he'll be okay if I go?"

"Yeah," Lola said. "He'll understand if you need a break."


	9. Part 2:4

1952 – CONTINUED

Lola paused a moment in the doorway of the bathroom. "Please, Raúl, come in, have a seat," she said sarcastically.

"Lola, what are you doing?" Raúl said from the armchair in the living room.

"Well I just got through taking a bath, and now I'm going to go get dressed." She gestured at the towel wrapped around her to illustrate. She went into her bedroom and closed the door partway behind her so she could still hear Raúl talk, which she knew he would.

"You know if one of us rescues a child, then one of us must take care of it," he said.

"I'm well aware of that," she said. "That's why I did it. I'll take him."

Raúl widened his eyes. "Lola, you're not even three years into your first one! Now you want another one?"

"The baby's going to St. Helen's," she said. "They'll pretty much grow up together."

"What if one is adopted? They're not even the same age; they might not even get along."

She emerged from her room, dressed and rubbing her wet hair with a towel. "I've got a feeling," she said simply.

* * *

1986 – CONTINUED 

"I still don't remember seeing you," Jake said.

"Well, we can't know everything."

Jake took a bite of his burger. "Yeah, why is that? I mean, if we're angels and stuff, shouldn't we be. . .I dunno, enlightened and crap?"

Lola poked at her cottage cheese with her fork. "Well, it's really weird. Angels are just the name that's always been used. We have other names in other cultures. But there's no Michael, no Gabriel, no Lucifer that we've ever seen."

"So how do you even know that you actually are what you are?"

Lola shrugged. "Nobody's sure, because nobody knows the first guardian angel, or the first angel of death either. Everybody quits after a while, and it's all apprenticeships. The skills are passed on, but never the history."

"So," Jake said, "for all we know, we could be a bunch of ghosts running around helping people?"  
Lola grinned. "Is that necessarily a bad thing?"

* * *

DECEMBER 31, 1986 

Elwood looked up at the clock on the wall. Only ten minutes till the ball dropped in Times Square on the television. He had the volume turned down low because he was tired of listening to Dick Clark ramble and interview people he didn't care about. He drained the last of his beer and plunked the empty bottle down on the bedside table.

He reached down and pulled his briefcase off the floor, trying to ignore the tingling in his surgery scar. For lack of anything better to do, he decided to clean out his briefcase. Usually he didn't care too much about being neat, but lately he couldn't find anything he needed after he put it in there.

"Those jerk-offs on the news might be right. Maybe I should stop smoking," he muttered, tossing one empty cigarette packet after another into the trash. One of the packs contained a stray smoke, which he promptly lit up. Gas receipts, food receipts, notes to himself that he didn't need anymore, and a few stray candy wrappers were freed from the briefcase. He cursed when he found all his photos mixed up in the mess, and discovered that the edges of the small manila folder he kept them in had worn to pieces. He put all the pictures back in a pile and rifled through his mail pile, pulling out a large glossy envelope and throwing away its contents (brochures and free address labels from some charity that wanted his money. Like he had any.).

He briefly examined the pictures as he put them in the new envelope, trying not to linger too long on them, since nearly all of them were of Jake. It had been a few years since Jake had gone, but it still hurt when he thought about it.

Elwood stopped on one picture. He couldn't quite remember when it was taken, or that he even had it in the first place. It must have been one of those random ones that people kept giving him. It was an old Polaroid of Jake and a girl with long dark hair. He didn't remember this girl, thinking it was probably another one of Jake's groupie flings. He hoped, for her sake, it wasn't another one he'd left at the altar. Jake and the girl smiled up at him from a strange angle, suggesting that one of them had held the camera at arm's length to take the picture.

Outside on the fire escape, Lola peered in through the window. "I was wondering when he was going to find that thing."

"What thing?" Jake asked, exhaling smoke. It was a strange sensation to smoke an invisible cigarette in an invisible, non-body, but he liked to anyway. It put a whole new twist on smoking.

"That picture of us that we gave him."

"Oh, that." Jake joined her at the window. "Did he look freaked out?"

"Nope, just a little confused," Lola said. "Which is good, because that means he probably doesn't remember me outside of unconsciousness."

Suddenly, the neighborhood erupted in sounds of celebration. It was the new year. Inside, Elwood rose and went to the fridge, pulling out a fresh beer. He opened it and looked down at the picture, still in his hand. "Happy 1987, Jake," he said, then took a swig. "And you too, random chick."

"Happy new year, man," Jake said, touching the window glass. "And her name's Lola."

Lola laughed. "Hey, I'm just happy to be acknowledged again after all these years."

END PART TWO


	10. Part 3:1

_A/N: Using Buster's age as calculated by statements in "Blues Brothers 2000". If Buster is 10 in 1998, then he was born in 1988. Evan Bonifant was actually born in 1985, but I am still using his birth date (Aug 19) for Buster's. I am also using Cab Calloway's death date of November 18, 1994 for Curtis's._

* * *

AUGUST 5, 1991

"Jake!"

He snorted and jerked awake, nearly falling off the couch.

"You sleep too much," Pierce said. He held the phone out to Jake. "It's Lola, she says its important."

Jake glared up at him and took the phone. "Hello?"

"Jake, I need you to meet me," Lola said.

"Okay, I'll be there in five minutes," he said. Jake rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his free hand. "Lemme put some pants on."

"No, don't transport ," she said. "The heat will kick your ass, it's so thick. That's why I need you to meet me. I only made it halfway and I need you to bring the car."

"Yuri has the car," Jake said.

"Damn," Lola replied. "Okay, then take a cab."

"I don't have any money."

"That's what jobs are for," she said. "Anyway, go in my closet. There's an old hatbox on the top shelf with a blue striped zipper purse in it. Bring the whole thing, and there should be enough cab fare. Don't pocket any."

Jake struggled to put on his pants and hold the phone at the same time. "Lola, would I steal from you?"

"Yes. I mean it Jake. Don't take anything, or I'll make you get a job," she said. "I know how much is in there."

"Okay, okay. Where are you?"

* * *

Lola slumped down in the backseat of the cab when it arrived.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked.

"It's too damn hot," she said. "Did you bring it?" Jake handed her a bottle of water. "Thanks, but I mean the wallet," she added.

Jake handed her the zipper purse. Instead of counting it, like he had expected, she just pocketed it without saying anything. Lola gave the cab driver fragmented directions, as if following something.

"Do you know where we're going?" Jake asked.

"Sort of," she answered.

As they got closer (Jake assumed, since they weren't backtracking quite as much), Jake was startled when a shrill, screaming cry filled his head.

"What the fuck is that?" Jake whispered.

Lola turned to him, eyes wide. "You can hear it too?"

"How the fuck could I miss it?"

Lola grinned. "Good to know." Jake wasn't sure what she meant by that.

Lola had the cab driver stop on a side street and paid him, tipping generously. According to the last sign Jake had observed, they were all the way out in New Lenox. "We're still not close enough," Jake said.

"I know. We'll have to walk," Lola replied as the cab took off.

"We took the cab to get out of the heat," Jake protested, taking off his jacket. "Now we're walking in it?"

"Jake, it will look suspicious if we're dropped off right in front of a house where something bad might have happened," Lola said, irritated at Jake's tendency to forget procedure.

"Point taken." Jake sighed, wiping his brow on his shirt sleeve. "Jesus, it's not even ten a.m."

They finally located the source of the crying, a small white cottage in an unkempt street with no curbs. Faded plastic children's toys were scattered about the yard, and the sun-bleached street was strangely quiet and deserted. Jake and Lola passed under the heavy shadow of a large tree as they went invisible. The door was unlocked and they entered the house.

The crying came from a little blonde boy. Lola guessed that he couldn't be more than two or three years old. He slapped the palms of his hands against a closed door leading off the living room, looking up at them pleadingly as they entered.

Jake wrinkled his nose. "What's that smell?"

"The kid needs a new diaper," she said.

"No, not that. The other smell."

Lola sniffed the air again. "Death."

Jake shook his head slowly. "I've smelled dead things before," he said. "It ain't nothin' like that."

"No, what you've smelled is decay," she said. "That right there is the essence of death. It's fresh, so whoever it is hasn't been dead long. I'll go check." She bent down to child's level. "Sweetie, who lives in that room?"

"Mamaaa," he cried, pointing at the door.

Lola smoothed his hair out of his face and made soothing sounds. Soon the boy's wails dwindled to sniffles. Lola picked up a toy truck from nearby and held it out to him. "Here, why don't you take this and play with Jake, okay? I'll check on your mommy." She pointed in Jake's direction.

The boy looked worried, but took the toy from her and toddled over to Jake. Lola took the opportunity to slip into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

"Play twuck?" the little boy said to Jake, holding the toy out to him. Jake arched an eyebrow. The little boy's nose was running, his eyes were red from crying, and Lola had been correct about him needing to be changed. Isn't this kid too old for diapers? He wasn't sure, since he wasn't particularly used to kids. In all the shadowing he had done lately, all the charges were at least twelve years old.

"Sure, what the hell," he said. He took it from the kid and sat down on the sofa, running the truck along his lap and the coffee table, making motor noises. The little boy giggled. "You like that, huh?" Jake said. He made the truck vault off his knee and drove it lightly across the top of the kid's head. The boy giggled even harder.

Inside the bedroom, Lola stood over the bed where a woman lay still underneath the covers. She looked sickly thin and drawn, with dark circles under her eyes. Lola touched her fingers to the woman's neck and felt no pulse. She turned to the beside table and lifted up the magazine. Underneath the pages lay a lighter and a scorched crack pipe.

Lola sighed. "Amateur junkie," she muttered. The room reeked of the smoke, and she could feel the particles of residue floating through the air, made thicker on the heat wave. They couldn't feel normal discomforts, like sore feet or temperature when they went invisible, but in exchange it sometimes caused them to blend in a little too well with their surroundings.

Lola noticed a picture frame on the dresser. Inside was a crookedly matted Polaroid photo of the woman and the little boy. The woman still looked slightly drug-thinned, but she was smiling, holding the child with one arm and balancing on a carousel horse with the other. The little boy clutched a small American flag in his chubby fist. The white border was labeled at the bottom; "Lacey and Buster, July 4, 1990."

"What's the deal?" Jake asked as Lola came back out.

"Overdose," she said quietly, closing the door behind her. "Crack-cocaine, bad batch."

Jake looked over at the kid, who was running his truck along the windowsill. "Is he. . ."

Lola shook her head. "He seems just fine. I don't think she's been on the stuff quite that long." She tousled the boy's hair again. "This little cutie's name is Buster." Buster looked up at her and grinned.

"The one thing I can't figure out is why someone hasn't come to—" Lola's unfinished question was answered when a man opened the door, stopping short when he caught sight of them. "I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you can see us," Lola said after a moment.

"Yeah. You guys Deaths?" the guy asked. His orange t-shirt practically glowed in the light from outside.

"Guardians," Lola replied.

The guy looked irritated and exhausted. "You guys need to keep up with your people," he said. "I found a confused spirit wandering around, took me all morning to get her oriented enough to tell me where I could find a body to go with her."

Lola put her hands on her hips. "Don't make accusations." She nodded at Buster, who was now ignoring all of them and making a teddy bear do flips. "We came for the kid. I'm not aware she has a guardian."

The other guy rubbed his eyes wearily. "My apologies," he said. He plopped down next to Jake on the sofa. "The bamf down here nearly killed me and I've been walking and hitchhiking on top of that." He let out a big breath. It looked as if he might melt right into the cushions.

"If you're not in a hurry, you should stay here for a while and cool off," Lola said. She handed him her bottle of water. "I'm going to walk down to that convenience store we passed and call the cops from the pay phone."

"What exactly are you going to tell them?" Jake asked.

"I'll think of something." She headed out the door, leaving the three males to an awkward silence.

"I'm Randy," the orange guy introduced, extending his hand wearily. "My friends call me Neon Death."

"Jake," he replied. "They call me Hey You Wake Up." He gestured toward the door. "That was Lola."

"Nice," he said. "She's sassy. Is she available?"

Jake arched an eyebrow. "You'd have to ask her."

Buster toddled over to Jake and handed him a plastic pork chop from a kitchen set, uttering an enthusiastic, unintelligible sentence.

"Why thank you," Jake said, amused in spite of himself. "I forgot to have breakfast." Buster wandered back to the toy box again.


	11. Part 3:2

NOVEMBER 19, 1994

Jake winced as the large black boy's fist landed a hard blow across Buster's nose, knocking him to the gravel. "That's gonna sting for few days," Jake muttered.

Buster glared up at his opponent, Darius, ignoring the laughter of his group of cronies. "You'll be sorry you ever messed with me!" He wiped away the trickle of blood that dripped on his worn winter coat.

"What you gonna do about it?" Darius guffawed. "You ain't nothin' but a little shrimp cracker-boy." He turned to walk away, as he was accustomed to. Nobody dared fight Darius back, especially a new kid.

"Show 'em what you got!" Jake shouted encouragingly.

Buster propelled himself up off the ground and was on Darius's back quick as lightning. Darius, caught off guard by the attack, fell forward onto the concrete. His face scraped on the edge of the sidewalk, causing him to cry out in pain and surprise.

Jake made a worried face. "Oh shit. Um, well hell, don't be too hard on him," Jake said uncertainly. Buster didn't hear him, of course, punching Darius a few times in the back of the head before getting pulled away by two teachers and hauled inside the school building. Somebody blew a whistle and the rest of the kids groaned in unison, not wanting to go in early.

"That's really not the best of encouragements."

Jake turned around to face Lola. "Well, he's gonna have it rough. I want him to be able to survive if he needs to."

"You know that this might mean another foster home," Lola replied.

"I know," he said. "But the kid can handle it. He's strong." Jake had noticed a great bit of resilience in Buster. He liked to think that he'd had something to do with it.

Lola smiled. "The apple doesn't fall far," she mused. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here."

"What'cha need?" Jake asked amiably. Despite Buster's bad luck today, he was in a good mood. What little cold he felt was nice, blowing through him on the day's unusually light breeze.

"I found an old friend of yours," she said. "He wanted to come say hello as soon as he could get away."

"What do you mean? Who?"

Lola pointed to the playground equipment. Leaning against the monkey bars was a man in a familiar black suit with a dark, weathered face. Jake's jaw dropped. "Oh my god," he said. "Curtis?"

Curtis smiled at him. "Hey there, boy. How ya been?" he called out.

"Holy crap! Curtis!" Jake exclaimed, a look of almost child-like excitement coming over him. He ran across the worn yard and enveloped the old man in a fierce hug. "Curtis, man."

"Hey there Jake," Curtis said. He pulled away and held Jake out at a distance to examine him. "You look fine, boy. Fan-tastic."

Jake laughed. "You don't look so bad yourself." Jake's expression softened as it dawned on him. "Oh man," he murmured. "When?"

"Last night," Curtis said.

"Man, I'm sorry," Jake said sympathetically.

"Aw, don't worry about it," Curtis replied. "I was ready for it. Gettin' too old for livin'."

"You're not old, Curtis," Jake said, smiling teasingly.

"Eighty-seven was plenty old," Curtis replied. He gestured over at Lola, who had taken a seat on a nearby swing, watching them with a smile. "This young lady tells me you're a guardian angel now."

"Sure am," Jake said. "Never would've thought it, huh?"

Curtis chuckled. "It did surprise me a bit. Looks like you got a fine boy to look after," he said. "Reminds me of a couple of boys I used to know."

"That might not be a good thing," Jake said.

Curtis shook his head. "You don't gotta be a saint to be good people," he said. "Look at you now. You're helpin' somebody through life, and you died saving a life. You and Elwood both are good people, doing what you loved and helpin' people when you could." Curtis laid a hand on Jake's shoulder. "You done me proud. You always done me proud."

Jake smiled, choking back a few tears. He put his arm around Curtis's shoulder. "Thanks, man," he said. Jake and Curtis made their way over to the swings, where Lola pushed herself lightly. They were all still invisible, and a passerby could have mistaken her movement for a breeze.

"So how do you feel, man?" Jake asked, kicking a rock away across the brown grass.

Curtis took a deep breath, and flexed his gnarled hands. "It's strange," he said. "My body don't look any different to me than when I left, but I ain't stiff anymore. I can move around. I could maybe play as hard as those children."

Jake smiled. It was great to see Curtis again, even if it meant he was gone from the world. _I bet this is what coming home feels like,_ he thought. _Feels pretty good._

Curtis smiled down at Lola. "Mind if I join you in a swing, young lady?"

"Not at all," she said. "Let's go visible first. The kids will think they've got haunted swings."

"How do I manage that?" Curtis asked.

"Just will yourself to be in the world," Jake answered, repeating what Lola had said when she taught him how. "It will just happen."

They saw the light around Curtis shimmer along with them. "That was easier than I figured," he said. He pushed himself back on the swing, then let go and let gravity take over. "Lord, I forgot how fun these things were!" he called out.

Jake couldn't help but laugh. He'd never seen Curtis do anything he and Elwood had done as kids. He had always seemed old and apart from them that way. Now he looked so free.

"How about a push?" Lola said.

Jake's mood was soaring. He positioned himself behind her and grabbed the chains. "It would be the greatest of honors, my lady," he said dramatically. He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then pushed her forwards with his palms flat on her back. She squealed, caught by surprise, then giggled to herself as Jake pushed her higher and higher.

"Watch out, Curtis," Jake said. "We just might beat you going higher."

"Fat chance, boy," Curtis replied. "I grew up out in the country. We had an old swing made of rope and plank at the school house. I was the swing champion."


	12. Part 3:3

MAY 21, 1998

"I can't believe they're doing this," Jake said bitterly. "How can they tear it down?"

Jake, Lola, and Curtis stood in front of St. Helen's. The doors and windows were boarded up, and a demolition notice was nailed to the big front doors. Multiple coats of faded graffiti marked the passage of time. Bits of trash were caught in the overgrown weeds.

"Jake, that building was old and run down when you lived there," Lola replied. "It's actually about time."

"But they're not even re-building it new," Jake complained. "The Penguin and the sisters had a good team thing going here. Now they're splitting them up all over the place. This was a good home." Jake bit his tongue and crossed his arms across his chest. He knew he was starting to sound whiny, so he stayed quiet. Besides, the words on his tongue weren't anything he hadn't already said about the matter.

Curtis sighed. "Lot of memories here."

"What'd they do with your basement when you were gone?" Jake asked.

"I told Sister Mary when I was sick to put my stuff in the pile for the church charity sale," Curtis replied. "I never came back to check, but I bet she probably did. They probably just stored the cleanin' stuff down there after that."

"Want to go inside?" Lola asked them.

"Not me," Curtis said. "Too sad for me."

Jake thought for a moment. "Nah, me either."

Lola nodded. "Let's sit," she said, pointing to the front steps. They each took a seat on a separate step, kicking away flat flakes of cracked concrete.

"I remember how we all used to fight over who got to sit up here in the shade when it was hot," Jake mused. "We won a lot more once we got bigger."

Lola pulled a cherry candy out of her pocket. "So where'd you go last time, Curtis?" Curtis had decided to see the world in his afterlife, and would disappear for months at a time to explore. Lola and Jake had called him back when they'd learned that St. Helen's was going to be gone for good. The demolition was slated for next week.

"Went to see Spain," he said. "Pretty place. Checked in on Cab before I met you guys here."

Jake shook his head. "It still boggles me that you have a son," he said. "I wish you would have told us growing up."

Curtis laughed. "His momma and other daddy were a whole different set of people," he said. "I didn't want him to be ashamed of me like his mother was ashamed of me."

Jake lit a cigarette and took a thoughtful drag. "Curtis, I've been thinking."

"Boy, that thinkin' thing's dangerous," Curtis joked.

"No, really," Jake said. "You know how we all stick together like a big weird family? Me and Elwood had you It ends up that we had Lola too. Lola has Raúl and Yuri and Pierce, and my mother had Raúl too. I never had my mom. Your son never had you, Curtis. Buster doesn't have anybody, and neither does Elwood."

Lola popped the candy in her mouth and shot him a wary look sideways. "You're not getting at what I think you're getting at, are you?"

"Well, think about it," Jake said. "What would make everything more connected? Elwood, Buster, and Cab are still alive. Why don't we set it all up? Make them another branch of the family."

"How you gonna get Cab?" Curtis said. "He doesn't even know that any of us exist. Or used to exist. Or whatever."

"Exactly," Lola said. "I could see how we could get Elwood and Buster to meet up with each other, since Buster's in the Penguin's care. I'm sure we could come up with something. All that would take is some talking in her ear while she's asleep."

"I don't know," Jake said. "Wait, didn't you say that the Penguin knew about Cab too?"

Curtis nodded. "She's the one helped me out with the money back then," he said.

Jake sucked in more cigarette smoke, the wheels in his head turning. "It's simple," he finally concluded. "Elwood's the searcher. If he just knows about Cab, he'll go looking. We just have to get the Penguin to say something to him about Cab."

Curtis furrowed his brow. "I don't know, Jake. It may not be such a good idea. Cab's pretty straight. I don't think he'd take too kindly to some criminal poking around in his life."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Jake said.

Lola swallowed the last sliver of her candy. "How's this?" she prompted. "If you can think of a way to arrange the whole thing, you go right ahead and try. Raúl said I was crazy to take on two charges, but that worked out all right. Maybe it's not such a crazy idea after all."

Curtis shrugged. "Sounds all right," he said. "Just be careful, okay?"

Jake clapped Curtis on the shoulder. "I will, man. Don't worry. I'll have it all figured out."

"You better figure quickly," Lola said. "Elwood gets out in three weeks." She stared up at the sky, cast in gold and orange with the setting sun through the smog, and ran her hands across the smooth spots on the stone railing. "I almost don't want to leave her here," she said.

"Me either," Jake said quietly.

"Stayin's what makes us ghosts instead of angels," Curtis said. "You taught me that."

Jake said. "I know. It still hurts." He let out a long breath. "I wish Elwood could be here. See it before it's gone."

Lola leaned back against Jake's knee. "Maybe it's better if he isn't. Lingering is what makes us into ghosts."

THE END


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